


Isonomia

by Spylace



Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Rated for Reaper, Reaper McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaper is pressed into active service when Marcus goes rogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isonomia

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the kink meme: http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=160671#t160671
> 
> Reaper!Bones in STID

“What time is it?” John rasps when the cryopod opens with a hiss. Didn’t even have the decency to put him in a coma. Not that he could be put under for that long but it’s the thought that counts. Liu’s face looms over him weathered and lined like when he’d gotten back from his trip from Cardassia Prime to find Vulcan destroyed and its survivors grieving, a fucking two-third of the Terran academy personnel destroyed with no answers as to how no one had seen this coming.  
  
“Stardate 2259.55.” A technician answers crisply, jamming a hypo in the side of his neck. He snarls and she jerks back, the plastic cylinder clattering against the cool surface of his berth. But already, his head is clearer and he wipes the frost from the corner of his lips.   
  
“A year, you kept me under for a year.” He says mulishly, eyes rolling to settle across the men and women who surround him—Liu, Barnett and Komack, all armed with security personnel as back up. The techgirl shrinks under his steady gaze, her chocolate skin turned beige. He flashes them a feral smile. “Things must be bad then.”   
  
“Marcus” Komack says stiffly, slimy as ever, his neck bulging. “Has gone rogue.”   
  
“Knew it” John snorts with a vindictive flair as he strips off the flimsy gown that shrouds his body. “Didn’t I tell you he was trouble?” He stands in the nude, all eyes on him. Komack swallows as though regretting the decision to wake him already.  
  
Too fucking late—he thinks as he rummages through the clothes he’s been given and crushes the tracking device in one hand. They froze him—fucking froze him—because they knew he’d never agree.  
  
John Grimm was an aberration, a hiccup in a genetic lottery that he lost badly. He knows that not everyone has the misfortune of being born with the necessary markers, enough that he could accommodate the twenty-fourth chromosome without turning into a complete monster.   
  
He grew up human, he grew up a soldier. He was trained to follow, a fucking golden retriever next to the pack of wolves that Khan and his ilk had become.   
  
“We can talk about the ‘I told you so’s later Grimm.” Liu interrupts impatiently. “Right now, we need...”  
  
“...Pike, I’m going to strangle that kid.” He mutters, pulling on his shirt. “What’s he doing now that it takes him a year to get me out of the goddamned freezer?”  
  
“Grimm” Barnett rumbles and he doesn’t like the other man’s tone. It’s quiet and hesitant and that much harder on his ears. “Pike is dead.”   
  
John takes a breath.   
  
“Tell me everything.”

 

Marcus squeals like a pig when he is caught.   
  
John knows what this man can do, he knows what those hands are capable of but he stands to watch as the admiral clutches at the augment’s bone-white wrists, struggling to tear them away from the side of his head. It is a fruitless endeavor and in the background, he can hear the man’s daughter pleading for him to stop.  
  
Khan is mad, his leonine eyes boring into Marcus as though he can find a semblance of a soul. Marcus gasps for air, his legs folding, the acrid tang of ammonia letting them all know that the man’s lost control of his bowels.   
  
“That’s enough of that.”  
  
He says dryly and swings a wrench into Khan’s face, laying him flat on his back on the floor. Carol Marcus screams as he steps into view.   
  
“So this is what they replaced me with?” He asks casually, disappointed that he didn’t even get to touch the shiny new toys the ‘Fleet provided him with. Behind the console, he sees Kirk’s sun-bright head swiveling up to get a better look and he gives the kid wink, just in time to avoid an elbow to his face.   
  
Khan wheezes, leaning against a wall. His entire face is smeared in red, the shallow impression across his left eyebrow pulsing a little.   
  
“Always knew the brass was made up inbred fuckwits but hell, this, this takes the cake.” John continues before kicking Marcus in the knee. “Do you even know who this is?”   
  
“I am Khan.” Khan hisses, menacingly slow.   
  
“Maybe” he shrugs with a roll of one shoulder. “Or maybe you ain’t. I seem to remember my history lessons differently.”   
  
With a defiant roar, Khan charges forward, his stance unsteady, throwing punches like a cornered rat. For a man groomed to be the sovereign of an entire planet, this sudden coup must be a hard blow to his ego. But he has little sympathy for someone who beats on stupid kids, women, and the elderly. He easily sidesteps the next strike. His first outing in a year is cathartic but he’s got a job to do.   
  
“Who are you?”  
  
“John Grimm” he replies, wondering when his life had become a cheap blockbuster thriller. Two hundred years have a way of changing a man’s perspective but apparently not his nature. “They call me Reaper.”

 

He hails the Enterprise on the viewscreen and can see how relieved the crew looks to find their captain in one piece. John clears his throat, one eye on Khan to see that he’s still out cold.   
  
“This is Sergeant John Grimm of Section 31. I have Khan Noonien Singh in my custody along with Admiral Alexander Marcus. Permission to come aboard Captain.”  
  
The Vulcan’s eyes widen in recognition and John frowns—just what had Pike told his first officer?   
  
He beams several personnel over to the USS Vengeance to take control and tow the Enterprise back to Earth. He gives the sleek, deadly ship a longing pat before accompanying Khan, Kirk and Marcus-lite to the sickbay. Admiral Marcus himself is beamed directly to the brig. He has no more words for a liar, an oathbreaker.   
  
Later though, he finds that Captain Kirk has escaped his CMO’s tender mercies and is cowering in a corner in the engine room. Perhaps that is unkind. John knocks on a safe-looking surface in greetings—“Shouldn’t you be in one of those fancy beds right now?”   
  
“Why?” The kid shoots back. “You offering?”   
  
Laughter rumbles out of his throat unbidden and the kid looks chagrined. He scoots over as though offering a spot. “How’d you find me anyway?”   
  
“Maybe I know you better than you think.” John replies, unscrewing the cap off his flask and taking the first swig. He offers it to Kirk who hesitates only for a moment before taking a pull, chokes, then takes another.   
  
“You captains.” John says fondly. “Always raring off with your head in space. Never changes.”   
  
Kirk sputters.  
  
“You...”  
  
John smirks.   
  
“I ain’t saying no to a bed but if you really wanna thank me, keep your nose clean and keep out of trouble. Your first officer’s got a good head on his shoulders from what little Chris got to tell me before I was fridged so listen to him. I might not be there to pull your ass out of the fire next time.”   
  
The kid’s eyes are intense, electric blue of a warpdrive. And slowly, he raises his flask.   
  
“To Pike.”  
  
“To Pike.”


End file.
